WHAT HAS GOD WROUGHT? (Santamaria)

Samuel F. B. Morse used “What hath God wrought?” (Numbers 23:23, KJV) most famously in his first public long-distance telegraph demonstration.

May 24, 1844 — the first big send.
In the U.S. Capitol (then in the Supreme Court chamber), Morse tapped out “What hath God wrought?” over the new Washington, D.C. ↔ Baltimore experimental line to his partner/assistant Alfred Vail, who received it at Baltimore’s Mount Clare depot and sent the confirmation back. The phrase was suggested by Annie Ellsworth and was recorded on the early system’s paper tape.

“What hath God wrought” is one of those phrases that sounds like it belongs carved into stone—because it’s the sound a human being makes when they realize history has a Driver.

It comes from Numbers 23:23, spoken by Balaam, a compromised prophet hired to curse Israel. The setup is deliciously ironic: a king (Balak) pays for a curse, engineers the ritual, stacks the altars, sharpens the spiritual knives—and God simply refuses to cooperate. Balaam opens his mouth to deliver doom, but instead keeps blurting out blessings. Then he says the line that snaps the whole scene into focus:

“Surely there is no enchantment against Jacob, neither is there any divination against Israel… What hath God wrought!” (Num. 23:23, KJV)

1) The phrase is a funeral for superstition

Balaam’s world is full of techniques: spells, omens, and manipulation. The assumption is that spiritual power is something you can purchase, channel, and aim—like a weapon.

God turns that entire worldview into a punchline.

“No enchantment… no divination…” Not some enchantment. Not weak divination. None. When God purposes blessing, the occult becomes theater—smoke machines and mirrors in a storm.

That doesn’t mean evil isn’t real. It means evil isn’t sovereign.

This is why Scripture keeps refusing to treat darkness as an equal opposite to light. Pharaoh’s sorcerers can mimic a few signs—until they can’t (Ex. 8:18–19). The Assyrians can roar—until one angel ends the noise (2 Kings 19:35). The cross looks like Satan’s triumph—until it becomes his defeat (Col. 2:14–15).

“What hath God wrought” is the moment when human control systems collapse. It’s the confession that reality isn’t finally governed by cleverness, fear, or technique.

It’s the scream of the defeated accuser

Remember who’s talking. Balaam is not a choir boy. He’s being paid to curse. Yet he’s forced to say, in effect: I can’t even weaponize my mouth against the people God has set His love on.

That touches a deep biblical pattern. Satan is called “the accuser” (Rev. 12:10). His work is slander, prosecution, and condemnation. But the gospel answers with a rhetorical question that feels like thunder:

“If God be for us, who can be against us?” (Rom. 8:31)

Not “who will try.” Plenty will try. The question is: who will succeed?

Paul goes further:

“Who shall lay any thing to the charge of God’s elect?” (Rom. 8:33)

The grammar is courtroom grammar. Charges. Accusations. Condemnation. And the answer is not, “Nobody will ever bring charges.” The answer is: the charges won’t stick—because God Himself justifies.

Balaam’s line is an early echo of Romans 8. He’s staring at people he wants to curse, and he can’t. Heaven has decided. The verdict is already written.

It’s a warning to every age that thinks it can engineer outcomes

Balak’s plan is recognizable: change the location, adjust the ritual, try another angle, bring in more resources, keep applying pressure. How modern.

We do the same, just with shinier tools. We call it strategy. We call it influence. We call it optics. And some of it is wise stewardship—until it becomes idolatry: the belief that the future belongs to whoever can manipulate the levers.

Numbers 23 is God’s way of saying: You can build your altars; I govern the sky.

“The king’s heart is in the hand of the LORD… he turneth it whithersoever he will.” (Prov. 21:1)

“He doeth according to his will in the army of heaven, and among the inhabitants of the earth: and none can stay his hand…” (Dan. 4:35)

“What hath God wrought” is the sentence you say when you’re forced to admit you’re not the author of the story.

It’s a lens for remembering salvation history

If you trace the Bible’s storyline, this phrase keeps fitting like a key in lock after lock:

• Red Sea: slaves walk through water as if creation itself is obeying the covenant (Ex. 14).
  What hath God wrought.

• Jericho: walls fall not by siege engines, but by obedience and worship (Josh. 6).
  What hath God wrought.

• David and Goliath: a shepherd refuses the armor of the age and wins with a stone, so nobody confuses victory with human might (1 Sam. 17).
  What hath God wrought.

• Exile and return: empires rise and fall like chess pieces moved by an invisible hand (Isa. 44:28–45:1).
  What hath God wrought.

• The cross: the most cursed-looking moment in history becomes the hinge of redemption (Acts 2:23–24).
  What hath God wrought.

• The resurrection: Rome’s seal, soldiers, and tomb are mocked by a sunrise (Matt. 28:1–6).
  What hath God wrought.

And the Bible’s final pages are essentially the universe saying it again, but louder:

“Alleluia: for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth.” (Rev. 19:6)

It becomes personal: the doctrine of astonishment

A lot of people can talk about God in the abstract. Fewer can say “What hath God wrought” about their own life without lying.

Because to say it honestly, you have to admit two things at once:

1. I didn’t save myself.

2. God did not owe me mercy.

That’s why the gospel produces astonishment. When grace lands, it doesn’t feel like a wage. It feels like resurrection.

“But God, who is rich in mercy… even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ…” (Eph. 2:4–5)

Dead people don’t assist. Dead people don’t collaborate. Dead people don’t negotiate terms.

If you are in Christ, your life is Exhibit A for the phrase. You are a walking “What hath God wrought.”

How to use the phrase without turning it into a cliché

There’s a cheap way to say it: as a brand slogan for success.
There’s a biblical way to say it: as worship after you’ve watched God overturn the expected.

Here’s the biblical way:

• Say it when you see providence: God closing doors you were pounding on, and opening doors you didn’t even knock (Acts 16:6–10).

• Say it when you see deliverance: not always from trouble, but through it—where faith is forged, not displayed (1 Pet. 1:6–7).

• Say it when you see conversion: the hard heart softened, the blind eyes opened, the proud humbled (Acts 9).

• Say it when you see preservation: the church still alive after every attempt to erase it (Matt. 16:18).

And say it best when you see Christ, because the greatest “What hath God wrought” is not a miracle in the sky, but the Son of God crucified and risen.

“Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift.” (2 Cor. 9:15)

Closing: the right kind of awe

Balaam said it unwillingly. The saints get to say it willingly.

The occult fails. The curse collapses. The accusation breaks. The story bends toward the purposes of God. And the only sane response, when you finally see it, is worship mixed with wonder:

What hath God wrought.